


Broken Through Time

by MysticRose1992



Series: Through Time [1]
Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-26 18:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticRose1992/pseuds/MysticRose1992
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would happen if the past and present collided and a young woman was dropped into a time she was not born into? What if she felt she belonged there more than in her own time? When the time comes, will this woman allow time to fix itself and place her back into her own time, or will she fight time and stay where she belongs?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One-**

A young woman of only 16 sat on a park bench absentmindedly watching the couples and families that were also in the park. Her blue eyes looking, yet not truly seeing, as her left hand poked and prodded the bruise that was on her right cheek. She had ran here after another fight with her mother, not really hiding, just waiting. What she was waiting for, she did not know, all she knew was that she was waiting. Ever since her father left her in this earthly realm when she was 12, she had been waiting.

A cold, harsh wind blew through the park, her body shivered and she felt the goosebumps form on her arms and neck, telling her to bundle up and keep warm. But she did not. Her eyes drifted upwards towards the sky, clouds were quickly covering the sky, turning the bright, cheerful evening into a dark and ominous one. The couples and families quickly left the park to return to the safety of their homes.

She tilted her head straight up and closed her eyes as she felt the air become electrified.This was what she had been waiting for. She smiled as she saw a bright flash of light through her closed eyes before her mind was swallowed by unconsciousness.

**\\\'~'//**

Madame Antoinette Giry was quickly hurrying through the park, along with her daughter Meg, in hopes to get them back to the newly rebuilt Opera Populaire in time, before the rain came down on them. She and her daughter were just coming back from meeting up with young Miss Christine Daaé, soon to be Victomtess Christine de Chagny in a few short weeks. She was happy for her young ward, though she had hopped that Christine would have been the one to help her old friend Erik out of the darkness he had found himself in. But, alas, she was not.

As the two women came to the end of the park, a bright flash of light off to the side of them caused them to stop. The sound of, what sounded to be, a body hitting the ground caused fear to take hold of Antoinette's heart. She gripped her daughter's shoulders as she looked towards where the sound had been. Her eyes widened when she spotted the body of what looked to be a young woman laying on the ground.

Antoinette removed her hands from her daughter's shoulders and took a step towards the young woman. “Maman?” Her daughter asked in quiet concern. Antoinette held up her hand in a silent command for her daughter to stay where she was as she carefully walked over to the young woman.

When Antoinette got to the woman she held her hands up to her mouth in a silent gasp. The young woman was Christine, and the poor dear looked to be in bad shape. Her dress was ripped and torn in places, as if the poor dear had run through the woods, and the branches had caught onto her dress. Her long, curly brown hair was sprawled out around her, and there was a large bruise covering her right cheek. Antoinette shook her head, no, this couldn't have been Christine. Christine was on her way home in her carriage, safe with Raoul, so this could not possibly be Christine.

“Meg, chére, quickly go to the Populaire and retrieve someone to help carry her to the Populaire.” Antoinette said looking towards her daughter, she saw her nodded before taking off towards the building that was right across the street. Antoinette looked back at the young woman, it was hard to imagine that this girl was not Christine, she looked to similar to Christine. A visible shudder ran through the young woman, Antoinette looked at the young woman's face to see she was still unconscious. Another shudder and Antoinette took off her cloak and draped it over the young woman's body.

“Maman!” Antoinette heard her daughter call and looked up to see her daughter running up to her with a young stage hand closely following her. Antoinette stood up and allowed the stage hand to pick up the young woman, wrapping the cloak more securely around her body. The young woman's head lulled back, a moan slipping through her slightly parted lips, her eyes fluttered but did not open.

Antoinette heard her daughter's gasp as she caught a look at the young woman's face. She reached over and took her daughter's hand, and gave it a little squeeze. “Do not fret, chére, though she looks similar to our Christine, I sense that this is not her.” She told her daughter before they quickly lead the stage hand back towards the Opera Populaire.

Once they got to the Populaire, Antoinette and Meg held the doors open for the stage hand before Antoinette quickly lead him towards the dorms. When she got to the hallway that lead towards Christine's old room, Antoinette hesitated a moment before turning down the hallway. Antoinette came to a stop in front of the locked door, after the Populaire had been rebuilt exactly like it had once been, no one had wished to use this old room in fear that the Opera Ghost would punish them. Antoinette glanced over her shoulder at the young woman in the stage hand's arms before pulling out a small key and unlocked the door, allowing the stage hand in to lay the young woman on the bed. Once the stage hand had laid the young woman down, he quickly turned and left the room.

“Maman?” Meg asked quietly from the door way. Antoinette looked from the young woman to her daughter who stood just outside the doorway nervously wringing her hands. Meg's eyes moving between Antoinette and the mirror, as if worried he would appear punish them for being in this room.

“Relax, chére, I feel he will not punish us.” Antoinette said calmly as she walked over to her daughter and took her hands in hers, “Please go and fetch me some warm water and a rag, so that I may clean this poor dear.” Meg nodded before she turned and took off down the hall.

Antoinette turned to look at the young woman and sucked in a breath. Though she could feel that this young woman was not Christine, the sight before her not only took her breath away, but brought tears to her eyes. In the candlelight, in this room, the young woman looked hauntingly like Christine. Antoinette looked towards the mirror, half expecting her old friend to come sweeping through it to take this young woman to his home. To protect her from whatever had attacked her.

With a shake of her head, Antoinette sighed and moved to sit on the bed next to the young woman. Antoinette gently began to run her fingers through the young woman's hair, untangling it, feeling the mother in her come out. She may not be her daughter, nor was she Christine, but she was a young woman that looked to be in need of help, and she would give it to her in any way she could.

From the corner of her eye, Antoinette saw her daughter slowly walk into the room with a bucket of water and a rag. She took the bucket, sitting it down with a thank you before taking the rag. “Go and rest, chére, I shall be here tending to her.” Antoinette said and Meg nodded before she quickly left the room. Antoinette dipped the rag into the warm water, ringing it out a little, before turning towards the young woman to began to clean her.

“Oh my!” Antoinette gasped out, dropping the rag, when she saw the piercing blue eyes watching her with a guarded look. Antoinette stared into the young woman's eyes that reminded her so much of her old friend's eyes. Though his were amber in color, they too were guarded. “You are awake.” Antoinette stated picking up the rag again. “How are you feeling, chére?” The young woman said nothing, just continued to watch her. “I am Madame Antoinette Giry, I am the ballet instructor at the Opera Populaire.” Antoinette said and noticed the young woman's eyes held shock in them for a second before going back to being guarded. Antoinette began to carefully wash the young woman's face. “What is your name, mademoiselle?” Antoinette asked. The only answer she received was the young woman turning her head away to look at the wall beside her. Antoinette sighed silently, it would seem the young woman did not wish to speak. And after the traumatic experience that the young woman had most likely gone through Antoinette was not going to force her, she would give the young woman the space that she needed.

Antoinette placed the rag on the bucket before gently opening her cloak that she had cover the young woman with and noticed that the young woman was still in her torn dress. Antoinette stood up and walked over to the armoire, she opened it and hoped that her friend would not mind that she was letting the young woman borrow one of Christine's old night dresses. “Christine.” She heard the young woman quietly say and froze.

“Pardon?” Antoinette asked spinning to look at the young woman who was still staring at the wall. When the young woman didn't say anything, Antoinette began to question if the young woman had even spoken or not.

“Christine.” The young woman said softly again, turning to look at Antoinette, “My name is Christine.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two-**

Christine laid curled up into a ball facing the wall with a blank look. After the woman, Madame Giry, had shakily helped her out of the dress she had taken from her mother's dressing room and into a night dress, she had left. Christine uncurled and rolled to her other side and looked around the room that was illuminated by a single candle. It shocked her how much it looked like her mother's dressing room, down to the full length mirror on the wall and everything. But even though it looked just like her mother's dressing room, she could tell it was not because there were no bundles of different flowers in every corner of the room, nor was there a light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

Christine sighed before reaching for the candle and blew the light out before allowing herself to fall asleep.

**\\\'~'//**

_Christine sighed as she watched her mother sing from backstage, she felt someone gently tap her shoulder and looked to the person to see a group of dancers behind her. She gave the group an apologetic smile before moving out of their way so they could be ready for their cue. Christine sighed again as she looked around at everyone backstage, they were all busy doing their jobs, and here she was not doing anything and getting into people's way. Her mother was right, she was a good for nothing that always got in the way._

_With an angry sigh, Christine turned and quickly left the backstage to wonder around the halls, and maybe even go to the chapel to pray for her father. Christine rubbed her arms as she walked down the hall that would lead her to the chapel. When she got to the chapel she slowly reached out her hand to open the chapel door when she suddenly changed her mind. With a slight hesitation she turned and began to walk towards her mother's dressing room._

_Within no time Christine made it to the door that lead to her mother's dressing room. Hesitantly, she reached out to open the door, but stopped right before her hand touched the handle. Her mother always forbade her from entering her dressing room._ But your mother is on stage now _, a voice in the back of her mind whispered to her. If she were to just step in and look around real quick then leave, her mother would surely never know. Right? Christine gulped before finally taking hold of the handle and opening the door and took a step in._

_The first thing that caught her attention was the beautiful full length mirror that felt more like a secret door to a secret world. Christine walked up to the mirror and gently placed her fingers on it, as if she were afraid that if she put any kind of pressure on it then it would brake and the illusion that was it would be gone. The opening of the armoire door caught her attention. Christine gasped and spun around to look at the armoire, afraid that someone would come out of it and attack her._

_When nothing happened, Christine cautiously took a few steps towards the armoire. She tentatively reached her hand out and grabbed the armoire door and opened it all the way and gasped. The armoire was filled with different costumes, she reached out to touch one of the many dresses, but stopped. If she touched her mother's dresses, she would surely find out and punish her._

_Christine went to close the armoire when something on the inside of the armoire door caught her attention. She turned and saw the most gorgeous black and dark purple dress she had ever seen. Without realizing what she was doing, as if she were in a trance, Christine reached out and began to stroke the dress._

_'I wonder what this would look like on me?' Christine thought as her hand pulled the dress off of its hanger. She walked back towards the mirror and held the dress up against her body, she smiled at her reflection._

Put it on _, the voice in the back of her mind had whispered. Christine looked down at the dress then back to her reflection before she turned and gently sat the dress on her mother's vanity chair. She slowly began to undress, her eyes flying around the room, taking in all of the flowers, as if expecting someone to suddenly appear and punish her for being in here. Once she was undressed, Christine quickly slipped the dress on, noticing that even though it looked like it came the 19 th century and would need a corset, it actually didn't need one because it had a built in corset. _

_Once Christine had managed to button up all of the buttons up her back, she turned and looked at her in the mirror and silently gasped. The dress was an off the shoulder dress and brought out all of her best curves, making her look like a totally different person. Christine slowly walked over to the mirror, not believing the young woman was her._

_When she got to the mirror Christine heard the door open and froze, watching through the mirror as her mother stepped into the room. Her mother froze when her eyes landed on Christine in her dress before she suddenly glared at her and stormed into the room. Christine turned and tried to back away from her enraged mother, but ran into the mirror._

“ _Mama-” Christine started but stopped when her mother slapped her hard enough to turn her head. Christine's eyes widened and slowly lifted her hand up to her cheek as the sting of the slap finally reached her brain._

“ _What the hell do you think you are doing?” Her mother demanded and Christine turned her head back to look at her mother, still in shock. Her mother had always yelled or thrown things at her, calling her a useless piece of trash, but never had her mother hit her before. “How dare you come in here and try to steal my dress!”_

“ _I wasn't- I was just-” Christine tried to explain, but was cut off as her mother slapped her again._

“ _Do not lie to me!” Her mother screamed before she began to tug at the dress on Christine. “Take my dress off now! Take it off!!” Her mother tore the dress and screamed in rage before she took Christine by the hair and threw her to the ground. “Look what you did!”_

“ _I didn't-” Christine started but stopped when her mother picked up a vase of flowers and threw it at her head, just barely missing it as Christine curled into a ball, tears of fear rolling down her cheeks. Christine heard the vase shatter and flinched as she heard her mother scream in rage again._

“ _How dare you lie to me you little bitch, you whore! You think I would rip my own dress?!” Her mother yelled as Christine balled up even more._

Run _, the voice in the back of her mind whispered to her. Christine quickly uncurled herself and bolted to her feet before running towards the door._

“ _You should have died that night, not my Gustave!” Christine heard her mother yell as she ran out of the room, “Go crawl into a ditch and die like the piece of trash you are!!” Her mother yelled to her as Christine ran down the hall. Her tears made her vision blurry, keeping her from seeing where she was going and the people looking at her in shocked concern as she ran passed them._

_Christine slid around a corner, slamming into the wall with her momentum. She hugged the wall for a moment, panting and trying to clear her vision, before taking off again. She didn't know where she was going, all she knew was that she had to get out of there and way from everyone. She ran out of the doors of the Opera Populaire and ran across the street, not caring that she could have been hit by a car, nor about the angry honks and yells being thrown at her._

_Once she got to the park, her legs gave out on her and she fell to her knees, crying. She hugged herself as she curled in on herself and just let herself cry everything out. She didn't care if she was making a scene, she needed this. She needed to release this from her soul, she felt the need to sing, but refused. She hadn't sung since her father died, leaving her alone with the woman that had once been her loving mother, but now was just a cold heart-ed bitch._

_After all of her tears had left her, she looked up and noticed that it was close to time for the sun to set. She slowly stood up on shaky legs and made her way to a near by bench and began to absentmindedly watch the couples and families that were also in the park. Her blue eyes looking, yet not truly seeing, as her left hand began to poke and prod the bruise that had formed on her right cheek. She felt as if she was waiting for something, what she didn't know. But ever since her father died, she had begun to feel as if she were waiting for something._

_A cold, harsh wind blew through the park, causing her body to shiver and goosebumps to form on her arms and neck, telling her to bundle up and keep warm. But she did not. Christine's eyes drifted upwards towards the sky, clouds were quickly covering the sky, turning the bright, cheerful evening into a dark and ominous one. Christine noticed the couples and families quickly left the park to return to the safety of their homes._

_Christine tilted her head straight up and closed her eyes as she felt the air become electrified. This was what she had been waiting for. She smiled as she saw a bright flash of light through her closed eyes before her mind was swallowed by unconsciousness._

**\\\'~'//**

Christine bolted up in the bed she was in, and could have sworn she saw something move in the shadow between the armoire and the mirror. She blinked and focused her eyes, but saw nothing there. She shook her head and laid back down. 'It was just the shadow's playing tricks with your mind.' She told herself, trying to convince herself as her eyes stayed on the shadow, as if making sure it wouldn't move again.

_Nothing is always as it seems, Christine._ The voice whispered into her mind before Christine felt the pull of unconsciousness take hold of her mind again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three-**

Meg quickly walked down the hall way towards Christine's old room, _her_ Christine's old room, with one of her old dresses in her arms. Her mother had told her to help the girl, _Christine_ , dress for the day. Her mother had suggested she use one of the dresses in the armoire in _her_ Christine's old room, but Meg refused. Just the thought of putting _that_ Christine in a dress that had belonged to _her_ Christine made Meg feel as if they were trying to _replace_ Christine with _her_.

No, Meg would not allow that. So she was going to put the girl in one of her dresses, and then maybe try to convince her mother to move the girl to a new room. That room belonged to Christine,  _her_ Christine, not this girl who shared not only Christine's likeliness but her name as well.

Meg stopped when she came to the door of Christine's old room, she took a breath to steady herself before lightly knocking before opening the door, her mother had told her to expect the girl to stay silent. Meg looked towards the bed and saw that the girl was sitting up staring at the mirror on the wall as if in a trance. Meg glanced at the mirror, before turning to look back at the girl and jumped in shock to see the girl had turned her head to look at her.

Meg gulped as she looked into the girl's guarded, yet curious shocking blue eyes. Meg took a shaky breath before holding out the dress to the girl, who slowly moved her eyes from Meg's face towards the dress, allowing Meg to breath. “Maman asked me to help you dress.” Meg said, the girl looked back at her before she looked down and begun to slowly got out of the bed. “Maman told me to inform you that she has taken your dress to the seamstress, to see if it can be fixed.” Meg said and watched the girl nod, showing she had heard Meg.

The girl silently slipped out of the night dress and Meg absentmindedly noticed that the girl's boobs were bigger than not only her's but also Christine's, and most of the dancer's boobs. Meg shook her head before helping the girl into her slip and corset. When Meg pulled the strings on the corset tight, she heard the girl give a little gasp of pain causing Meg to stop and look at the girl who had her head bowed. “Is it too tight?” Meg asked but the girl gave no answer, not even a nod or a shake of the head. Meg left the corset like it was, even though it was not even close to being it's normal tightness, and helped the girl into the dress.

Once the dress was on the girl, Meg tried her hardest not to glare, but she couldn't help it. The dress was tight on the girl, but not too tight, and heightened all the right curves on the girl, and even made the girl's boobs look even bigger than they were. Meg saw the girl's left hand fiddling with the dress's skirt, obviously uncomfortable. Meg turned her head from the girl, softly clearing her throat. “Maman asked that I show you around, only if you feel up to it.” Meg said and was shocked to hear the girl's voice.

“I would like that, thank you.” The girl said softly. Meg gulped, not only did this girl share Christine's likeliness and her name, but also her voice too? What else did this girl have that was Christine's? And did the girl also sing like an Angel too? Like Christine? Did she have anything that belonged to her and not Christine?

_Her boobs_ , Megs mind whispered darkly. The girl's big boobs were the only thing that she owned that did not belong to  _her_ Christine.

**\\\'~'//**

Christine silently followed the girl that had helped her into the dress she wore now, slip and all. Christine noticed that the girl had never given Christine her name, sending a clear message to her. And that message was that she was not wanted here. Christine felt a tear slide down her cheek, but quickly whipped the tear away, she wouldn't let them see her cry.

She didn't pay attention to the tour the girl was giving her. She didn't need to, this was the Opera Populaire, she knew every nook and cranny of the place, even most of the secret passages that ran through out the Populaire. Now the only question she needed answers to was:  _ when _ was she? Because she obviously wasn't in her time, the gas lights and no electricity confirmed that.

With a silently sigh, Christine turned her attention back to the girl she was following. She was a pretty little thing with long blond hair, that had been curled, long legs and a posture that showed she had grown up doing some type of dance, most likely ballet. Christine also remembered that the girl had beautiful pale blue eyes. The girl stopped and turned to look at her, Christine saw the girl's eyes widen when she noticed Christine was watching her. “It is almost time for rehearsals.” The girl said, “I shall lead you back to your room.” Christine shook her head, not really wanting to go back to that room right now, it brought back painful memories. “Well, if you don't wish to go back to your room, I guess I can bring you with me to the rehearsals, but you must stay out of the way.” The girl said, reminding Christine of her mother.

“Yes, of course.” Christine said softly and dropped her eyes to the floor before following the girl towards the auditorium. As soon as they entered, Christine heard everyone stop and felt them stare at her. She chanced a glance up and noticed they were indeed staring at her, but everyone looked at her confused. Christine noticed the girl had begun to move towards the woman from the other night, Madame Giry, and quickly caught up.

“You are late, Meg.” Madame Giry said and the girl bowed her head.

“I am sorry, Maman, I was showing her around as asked and did not realize how close it was to rehearsal the time was.” The girl, Meg, said and Christine felt as if the girl was trying to push the blame onto her.

“I see,” Madame Giry said sternly, “Get to your spot, Meg.” Meg nodded then quickly left Christine with Madame Giry. The two silently stared at each other before Madame Giry turned and motioned for Christine to follow her. “Come, Christine, you shall stand with me in the wings.” Christine silently nodded and followed Madame Giry. But before they could reach the wings, they were stopped by an older gentleman with a graying hair.

“Miss Christine Daaé?” The man asked in a confused tone as he quickly walked over to them. Christine looked around before noticing he was talking to her.

“Oh, no, Monsieur, I do believe you have mistaken me for someone else. I am Christine Dexler.” She told him softly.

“Oh, I apologize. You look almost identical to-” The man started before shaking his head and bowed to her, “Once again, I apologize.” He said before quickly leaving.

“Come, Christine.” Madame Giry said and Christine once again began to follow Madame Giry. Once they had gotten to the wings, Christine sat in a chair that Madame Giry motioned for her to sit in and began to think. Daaé? Where why was that name so familiar? Where had she heard it before?

Christine sighed as absentmindedly watched the rehearsals, listening more to the orchestra then anything. A silent tear fell from her eye before she could stop it when a memory of her in this same spot watching her father play in the orchestra as her mother preformed Elissa from Chalumeau's  _ Hannibal _ . They had been a happy family then, she had two loving parents who cared for not only each other but her as well. Her mother would teach her the Opera's at the same time she was learning them as her father would practice his part in the orchestra. They would laugh, dance, and sing.

But then that fateful day came and changed everything.

It had been Christine's 12 th birthday, and she had begged her father to take her to the beach to watch the waves. Her mother had gotten called to the Opera House for an emergency meeting, but had promised to meet them there. Christine and her father had been on the way to the beach, singing happily to the radio, sometimes purposefully out of tune while others right on key. And that was when it happened. 

A person fleeing from the cops had run the red light and T-boned them on the driver's side. The driver had instantly died in the crash, she had received some bumps and bruises, while her father had sustained a fatal wounded to his chest. The ambulance had quickly gotten to them but not quick enough, her father had died on the way to the hospital. 

For weeks after the funeral, her mother had refused to believe that her husband was gone and would never be coming back. She had convinced herself that he had just left for a little while and that he would return for them, for her. Her mother had taken up drinking and verbally abusing her. It had started out small and only when she had been drinking, but it quickly grew over the years. Her mother blamed her for the death of Gustave, and Christine blamed herself as well. If she had not begged her father to take her to the beach he would still be alive.

The feeling of someone watching her quickly brought Christine back to the present. She looked around but saw no one looking at her, yet she could still feel the eyes on her. Suddenly Christine felt like she had to get out of there. With a quickly glance to Madame Giry, who was busy watching the ballet dancers, Christine slowly stood up and began to carefully and quietly walk away. But she did not walk towards the backstage doors, not she made her way over to where she knew was a secret door. She glanced around and noticed no one was paying attention to her and quickly slipped through the secret door and into the tunnel it connected to.

As she entered the tunnel, she felt the sensation of being watched grow. Whoever was watching her was in the tunnel with her. Suddenly she felt her breath quicken and the need to run over come her, but instead of leaving the tunnel as one might have done, she took off down the tunnel. She didn't have to look back to know that whoever was watching her was following her, she gasped when she felt someone grab her and harshly pull her to them. She closed her eyes but did not try to struggle out of the person's grip, because from the grip she could tell that whoever the person was was strong.

“What are you doing back here, Miss Christine Daaé?” The person, a man, angrily hissed in her ear. Daaé. There was that name again. Whoever this woman was, she seemed to have left an impression here. “Or should I call you Victomtess Christine de Chagny?” De Chagny? That had been her mother's name before she had marred her father.

“I,” Christine started still panting, “I believe you have mistaken me for someone I am not, Monsieur.” Christine finished.

“Lies!” The man hissed before forcing her to spin around. Christine's breath caught when she found herself staring into cold, hard amber eyes, she barely noticed that the right side of the man's face was covered by a pure white porcelain mask. She watched as the man's eyes widened a little in shock before going back to the cold mask they had been before and pushed her a way from him. “You are not her.” He said and Christine couldn't tell if he was sad or relieved to find out she was not this Christine woman.

“No, I am not. I am me.” Christine said.

“And who are you?” The man demanded as he glared at her.

“Christine Dexler.” Christine said and a second later she found the man's hand around her throat, but did not choke her.

“Do not lie to me woman.” The man hissed dangerously at her, his eye promised death if she dared to disobey him.

“I am not. I am Christine Dexler and I am 16 years old. My father died when I was twelve leaving me with my mother who began to abuse me and blame me for my father's death. I ran from her and wound up here, I do not know how I go here.” Christine told him staring him in his eyes, willing him to believe her. She felt his grip on her throat tighten a little before he released her with a toss in the direction they had come from, causing her to stumble to the ground.

“Leave.” He ordered. Without a word, she scrambled up and ran from him knowing that if she did not, she might not live to see tomorrow. As she ran she heard what sounded like a cry from a wounded beast, she turned to look behind her but saw no one behind her and her body began to slow down.

_ Don't stop, not yet. Keep going. _ The voice in the back of her mind whispered to her. She picked up the skirt of the dress she was wearing and began to run again. She followed her instincts as she ran through the tunnels, not really knowing where she was going, but knew her instincts would never lead her wrong.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four-**

Christine Daa é , soon to be Victomtess Christine de Chagny in just two short weeks, sighed as she looked out of the carriage window. She was traveling with Raoul to the Opera Populaire, he was going to have a meeting with the Managers, and she was going to visit Madame Giry and Meg. Or at least that was what she had told him, the truth was that she had missed the opera house that she had grown up in, and something had been tugging softly at her soul for the months she had been away to return to it. But it had only been in the last week that the tugging had turned into yanks. She felt that something was not right.

Christine was coming back to the opera house to check and see if everything was alright. If  _ he _ was alright. For she felt that what ever was wrong was tied to  _ him _ . She hadn't told Raoul what she had been feeling, fearing that Raoul might start thinking that  _ he _ was somehow controlling her again. To force her back to  _ him _ .

Christine looked over at her fianc é and smiled lovingly at him. She loved Raoul dearly and she wished to be his wife. Though she did feel a tug at her heart whenever her thoughts drifted to  _ him _ . But she chocked that down to guilt for everything she had done to  _ him _ .  _ He _ had been her teacher, her Angel, and even her protector.  _ He _ loved her so much that it had drove  _ him _ to the point of madness, and that had scared her enough to push her into the loving, and safe arms of Raoul.

Christine was pulled back to the present when their carriage stopped, she glanced back out the window to see that they had made it to the Opera Populaire. She allowed Raoul to help her down from the carriage before leading her up the steps and into the opera house. Raoul took her hands and looked into her eyes lovingly causing Christine to smile at him.

“I shall try not to be too long with the meeting.” Raoul said.

“Do not worry, take as long as you need to, I shall be with Meg and Madame Giry.” Christine said and noticed that Raoul looked like he wanted to say something before he shook his head and kissed her knuckles.

“Do be safe, and I hope you have a wonderful visit.” Raoul said before turning and walked into the Managers' office. She heard them great him before she turned and walked in the direction of the auditorium. Christine sighed and nervously looked around, half hoping to spot _him_ , but she knew he was not here with her for she could not feel him, nor did she feel as if someone was watching her. She wondered if _he_ was even living under the opera house anymore before she remembered that Madame Giry had told her that _he_ had indeed returned, though he had not made his presence known to anyone but her.

Christine smiled at the people who looked at in her shock, confusing her a little. Why would they look at her like that? Did they not expect her to ever return here? That had to be it. They didn't think that after everything that had happened to her here that she would ever want to step foot in here again. Well, it was true that she was uncomfortable, but she would not let her past control her.

When she got to the back of the stage she stopped and couldn't help but stare at Meg who was standing in a beautiful Prima Ballerina gown with a young woman knelt in front of her pinning the dress in some parts. Christine's eyes studied the girl that was kneeling in front of Meg, the girl had long, beautiful dark mahogany hair that reminded Christine of her own hair. And Christine couldn't seem to remember who she was, there were not that many women here with dark mahogany hair.

It didn't really come as a surprise to Christine that she couldn't seem to remember the young woman, it was very likely that the young woman was new here. After all, the opera house did loose a lot of people after the fire when most of the workers left.

“Christine!” She heard Meg cry when she caught sight of her, “Ow! Watch it!” She heard Meg yell at the young woman pinning her, shocking Christine. She had never heard Meg yell at someone like that before, had being the Prima Ballerina gone to her friend's head already? She faintly heard the young woman say something to Meg, but was unable to hear what was said. “I wasn't talking to you!” She heard Meg say to the young woman harshly as she glared at her and stomped her foot causing the young woman to suddenly drop the pin she had been trying to pin into Meg's costume and quickly put her finger in her mouth. Christine suddenly realized what had happened, do to Meg's sudden movement the young woman had stuck herself so as not to stick Meg. “Careful!” Meg screeched before moving the white dress way from the young woman, as if afraid the woman would get blood on it.

“What is going on here?” Christine heard Madame Giry demand as she quickly walked over to Meg and the young woman who was now trying to wrap her finger in a scrap of fabric.

“She stuck me and nearly ruined the costume! I told you she wouldn't be able to do it!” Meg cried to her mother and Christine saw the young woman flinch before she began to slowly pack up everything she had been using. Christine's heart went out to the young woman and she quickly made her way over to the young woman to help her. She knelt next to the woman and went to grab a piece of fabric, the same fabric the young woman had apparently reached out to grab. Their hands came into contact with each other and a painful burning sensation flew through her body causing her to gasp in pain and pull her hand away and held it to her chest. She noticed that the young woman had also pulled her hand to her chest.

Christine gasped again, this time in shock, when the young woman turned to look at her, and she found herself looking at her own face. No, not her face, a face similar to hers, if not identical. Though this face held shocking blue eyes instead of honey brown eyes. And as she stared into the shocked blue eyes that reminded her so much of  _ him _ with the sadness she saw deep within them, Christine felt her hand slowly move from her chest and out to touch the face, to make sure what she was seeing was actually there. But right before her hand came in contact with the face, the eyes suddenly became guarded with a harden glare, once again reminded her so much of  _ his _ eyes, before the face suddenly moved away as the young woman quickly stood up. Christine stared in shock as the young woman quickly ran from the room, never once looking back. 

“Christine.” She heard Meg call her and loved over to her friend. “Are you alright?” Meg asked her as she held out her head for Christine to take. Christine took Meg's hand and heard Meg gasp in shock. “Christine, your hand! What happened to it?” Meg asked and Christine looked down at her hand in confusion before gasping at what she saw. Her hand was red and looked as if it had been burnt. Christine snapped her head towards the direction the young woman had run in remembering the burning pain she had felt when she touched her. Had that young woman some how burnt her?

“Who was she?” Christine asked never taking her eyes away from the door the young woman had disappeared through.

“Her name is Christine Dexler, she is 16 years old, and she was found unconscious in the park. She has been here for a week, we have been to the police but no one seems to have come looking for her.” Madame Giry told her. “And, my dear, it seems as though _he_ has taken an...interest in her, if you will.” At that Christine snapped her eyes to Madame Giry and felt a strange feeling in her heart, though Christine forced herself to believe that it was worry for the young woman who had caught _his_ attention because the poor dear looked just like her. “Do not worry, all he has been doing is watching her.”

“How do you know this?” Christine asked.

“I've see him. He stands in the shadows closest to her, watching her, as if he is trying to figure out who she truly is. And I believe that she knows he is there, I've seen her eyes wonder over to him, to his eyes.” Madame Giry said and Christine looked back over towards the door, not sure how she felt about this.

** \\\'~'// **

Erik had seen the who thing between the two Christines. He had been shocked when he had seen  _ her _ walk through the backstage doors, and had to force himself to stay where he was hidden in the shadows watching Christine pin Meg into her Prima Ballerina costume. He hatted to admit it, even if only to himself, but he did not like the way Meg had snapped at Christine. It had not been the girl's fault that she had accidentally pricked the girl, she should not have called out the name 'Christine' and shocked her. Nor was it her fault for pricking herself when Meg had stomped, he had found himself almost wishing that Christine  _ had _ gotten blood on the dress.

He had watched as Christine had slowly begun to pack up, glaring down at her hands as if trying to keep from saying whatever it was that she so desperately wanted to say. Over the week that she had been here, Erik had been watching her trying to see how much she was like  _ her _ . And throughout that week, Erik was surprised at how much different Christine was from  _ her _ . 

While  _ she _ had gone around smiling at people and humming, Christine kept her head down and tried her hardest to stay out of everyone's way. While  _ she _ had hated the dark tunnels throughout the building, Christine seemed to be drawn to them and would occasionally use them, though he could tell that she tried not to use them too much. Not out of fear of him, but out of respect, or that's what it seemed like to him. And because of that little fact, Erik had allowed her the occasional use of some of the tunnels.

And while  _ she _ had instantly warmed up to Madame Giry and Meg when  _ she _ had first arrived here, Christine seemed to keep up a barrier between her and everyone. And it was painfully obvious to everyone that Christine and Meg did not get along. And while  _ she _ had always taken her meals with Meg and the other Ballet Rats, Christine liked to take her meals alone in her room, though she would occasionally eat with Madame Giry when the woman asked her to.

Though the two looked and sounded eerily alike, the two could not be more different. And Erik couldn't be happier about this fact. He didn't want another one of  _ her _ in his opera house. And Christine could sound exactly like  _ her _ when she sings, if she ever sings, or she could sound completely different, he didn't care. They were two different people, and he knew this, and welcomed this. And that was why he had followed Christine out of the room and to her room, happily listening to her mutter words that a lady should never utter, what  _ she _ would never utter, and that was just another thing different between them.

He had watched her pace around her room holding her hand, the hand that  _ she _ had touched, to her chest, a chest that he had easily noticed was quite larger than  _ hers _ . He had noticed that her hand was red and looked to have been burnt. He had felt his eyes narrowed in anger at the thought that she had been harmed. Erik knew that Christine's hand had been perfectly fine before  _ she _ had touched her, had  _ she _ manged to somehow burn Christine? He remembered that he had silently growled at that and vowed to get revenge on not only Meg for yelling at Christine and causing her to prick herself, but also _ her _ for somehow burning Christine.

And that was how he now found himself hiding on the catwalk above Meg, Madame Giry, and  _ her _ with a bucket of blood red paint. He was waiting for the right moment to drop it on Meg and  _ her _ , he was waiting for Madame Giry to take a step or two away, he did not wish to get her with the paint since she was the only one who was kind to Christine. He smirked darkly when Madame Giry caught sight of some Ballet Rats practicing out of step and went to correct them. The moment that Madame Giry had taken four steps away from Meg and  _ her _ , he dropped the paint and the bucket on them. 

He chuckled darkly at the shocked scream that had come from the girls below him. His laugh escalated when he peered down at them and noticed that both of them were covered in the paint. His heart clinched at the hurt and betrayed look that was in  _ her _ eyes, but he told himself that  _ she _ had hurt and betrayed him far worse than what he had just done, and  _ she _ had somehow burnt Christine. A feeling of guilt started to wash over him, but quickly squashed it down as he turned and ran from the cat walk as he heard the Ballet Rats start screaming that the Phantom was back.

' _ She is no longer your Angel. She chose to leave you in the dark while she ran around with the Victomte. _ ' Erik's mind screamed as he raced back to his lair, but something made turn and run to the passage behind the mirror. There he stopped and watched Christine as she carefully wrapped her hand in a bandage. ' _ Besides, you have a new Angel. One that has fallen from heaven. One that is as hurt and as dark as you. _ ' His mind whispered and sucked in a breath as her sad blue eyes swept over to the mirror, ' _ She is your Dark Angel. _ '

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five-**

Christine sighed as she sat in her room on the floor as she leaned up against the mirror and began to patch up one of Meg's costumes. She had been here a little over three weeks and had taken up the job of being Meg's costume girl since she refused to sing and did not wish to dance. Christine glanced at her right hand, the hand that had gotten burnt from touching that woman,  _ Christine  _ T he burn had healed rather quickly. Christine didn't know what happened but she had an idea, her father had told her, whenever they had somehow found themselves discussing time travel, that two people with the same soul could not occupy the same space, and defiantly should not touch. Christine absentmindedly rubbed her right hand, if her theory was correct, it would seem that she and this woman,  _ Christine _ , shared the same soul.

Christine sighed and leaned her head back to rest against the mirror. Ever since that day, Christine had begun to feel better in her room, like she and the room had finally grown accustomed to each other. She looked at the mirror through the corner of her eye and fought the urge to stand up and look to see if there was away to open the mirror to a passage that she just knew was behind it. But she would not, she knew that the tunnels were that man's territory, and that every time she occasionally used the tunnels that she was tempting fate. Oh, she knew that he knew that she occasionally used his tunnels, she could feel him watching her, even now she felt him, that was how she knew there had to be a tunnel behind the mirror.

With a sigh Christine turned back to the costume in her hand, it was the costume that Meg would be wearing tonight, the one that she had been pinning on the girl when  _ Christine _ walked in. Well, it wasn't actually the one that she had been pinning, since that one had been covered in paint. Apparently a bucket of red paint had fallen from the catwalk that was right above Meg and  _ Christine _ . She remembered hearing the Ballet Rats screaming, but could not understand what they were saying in their high pitched voices, as she had bandaged her hand. And about three minutes after hearing the screaming she remembered that  _ Christine _ had barged into her room and over to the armoire that had just recently been filled with dresses that would actually fit her, and she remembered the annoyance that had suddenly filled her. Annoyance that caused her to speak out.

“Excuse me,” She had called out to _Christine_ , “who the hell do you think you are?” She remembered the shocked look on _Christine's_ face, and at the time she had figured it was because of the way she had spoken to the woman, not the foul language she had used.

“I am Christine Daaé,” _Christine_ had said, and there had been that name again, “this used to be my room.”

“I don't give a damn if this had once been _your_ room, it obviously isn't _your_ room any more seeing as it is _my_ room.” She had snapped at _Christine_. She remembered how _Christine_ had backed away from her before she glared at her and looked her up and down before tilting her chin up as her mother always did.

“Do not take that tone with me, I am soon to be Victomtess de Chagny.” _Christine_ had told her, her voice was cold but she was used to people talking to her like that, thanks to her mother.

“I don't give a flying fuck if you were the Queen of Sheba,” She growled out to _Christine_ , causing the woman's mouth to drop at both her tone and what she had said, “I will not allow someone to barge into _my_ room as if they owned it. Now, would you kindly remove yourself from my room.” She had demanded motioning to the door. At that moment she could have sworn she heard someone chuckling darkly. She remembered how _Christine_ had paled before running out of the room, she had quickly walked over to the door and slammed it shut before locking it.

Christine was brought back to the present when someone knocked on the door, she looked up waiting for the person to come in before she remembered that she had started locking the door. With a small groan, Christine forced her body to get up and unlock the door. Christine was not surprised to find Meg on the other side of the door, it was almost time for the opera to start, Meg needed her costume. The two started at each other, Christine silently finding pleasure in Meg's growing annoyance.

“Well?” Meg demanded, Christine hid a smirk as she said nothing while turning around to and walked to the dress that she had left on the floor, leaving the door open. She nearly laughed when she heard Meg's gasp at the fact that her white costume had been on the floor. Christine picked up the costume and shook it out, glad to see that while she had been thinking and remembering that her hands hand finished the dress.

“Here, it's done.” Christine said as she walked back over to Meg and thrust the costume out to her. Meg glared at her as she took the dress and looked at it before turning and leaving. “You're welcome.” Christine muttered to herself as she went and packed up her tools, knowing that she was to wait backstage with her stuff in case something happened and Meg's costume needed fixing. With a last look at the mirror, she left the room and made her way to the backstage.

**\\\'~'//**

Raoul sat in his and Christine's box, Box Three since Christine absolutely refused to sit in Box Five, and watched the opera. To be honest he had no idea what was going on for he was not paying attention. His mind was too focused on the day Christine had run up to him with tears in her eyes and pale as a ghost, her beautiful dress that he had bought her was covered in red paint and ruined. He had asked her what had happened but she just told him that it was an accident before she had begun to tell him about the confrontation with a woman in her old room. He told her about how the woman had been rude and had said some very vulgar words to her, and how that she had all but forced her to leave the room.

Raoul had wanted to go and speak to this woman about how she was to treat his Christine with the respect she deserved. But Christine had begged that they leave right then, which caused Raoul to believe that there was something that she had not told him. Something having to do with  _ him _ . 

Three weeks had passed since that day, and all he was able to find out about the woman was that her name was also Christine and that she was Meg's costume girl. He planned to confront her after the opera. This  _ Christine _ would apologize to his Christine, even if he had to force her to.

Raoul was brought back to the present by people clapping, he looked down at the stage and saw that the opera had ended. He quickly stood up and held out a hand to his fianc é e, “Come, we have something that must be done.” He told her gaining a confused look from his Christine as she took his hand. He helped her up and began leading her backstage.

“Raoul, what are we doing back here?” She asked gripping his hand tighter. He didn't answer her as he searched for Meg, just knowing that this _Christine_ would be near her. Raoul smiled when he saw Meg standing near her mother and walked over to them.

“Meg, calm down, I'm sure Christine can fix it.” Raoul heard Madame Giry tell Meg and had to remind himself for a moment that she was not talking about his Christine.

“It wouldn't need to be fixed if she had done it right the first time!” Raoul heard Meg cry as he continued to make his way towards them. When he finally reached them he saw a young woman kneeling behind Meg. “OW!” Meg yelped and tried to turn to glare at the woman, but was stopped by the woman's hands that gripped Meg's hips and forced her to stay facing the way she was.

“Stop moving!” He heard the woman hiss at Meg, and Raoul couldn't believe his ears, the woman had sounded just like his Christine. He tilted his head so that he could get a good look at the woman and nearly gasped, not only did she sound like his Christine, she looked like her too. Raoul glanced back at his Christine to make sure she was still there before looking back at the woman.

“Ah, Victomte, what can I do for you?” Madame Giry asked.

“I have something to discuss with that young woman.” Raoul said nodding his head to the woman behind Meg. He watched as she moved so that she could see around Meg to look at him. Raoul half expected to see her smile at him like his Christine always does when she sees him, but instead he watched as her shocking blue eyes glanced quickly behind him towards his Christine before going back to what she had been doing.

“Sorry, I'm busy at the moment, come back at a better time.” She said and everyone stopped and stared at her in shock, she either didn't notice this or didn't care, Raoul was leaning towards the latter.

“Excuse me, I am not only a Victomte but also the patron of this opera house.” Raoul said expecting her to begin apologizing, but all she did was glance at him before continuing her work.

“Is that suppose to impress me?” She asked and Raoul suddenly snapped and grabbed the woman's arm, causing her to accidentally prick her finger, as he pulled her to her feet.

“Now listen here, I demand the respect that I deserve!” Raoul hissed to her, the woman glared at him and pulled her arm out of his grip.

“No, you listen here,” She said shocking him, “respect is earned not given! And neither you nor your fiancée have earned my respect.” And with that, she sat and continued her work. After recovering from his shock, Raoul growled lowly. How dare she tell him that, who the hell was she to tell him that he had not earned respect? He was a Victomte and that earned him all the respected he deserved!

He moved to grab her arm again but something fell from the flies and nearly hit his head, it landed on the ground with a loud 'THUD' causing everyone to jump. Raoul looked at whatever had fallen and saw that it was a sand bag, he looked up confused, they were nowhere near the backdrops. As he looked up a letter floated down towards him. Raoul caught the letter and saw that it was addressed to him as he opened it.

' _ My dear friend, _

_You already have won the battle and your Christine's heart. I suggest you leave this Christine alone. For if you do not, this Dark Angel might pull you down from your throne and down to hell where we have been forced to reside._

_You have been warned._

_Your obedient servant,_

_O.G.'_

Raoul paled at the signature before anger consumed him and he balled up the letter. Had  _ he _ really not learned his lesson? Well, if  _ he _ wanted to play this  _ game _ again, then so be it. Raoul had won last time, and he would win again.

 


End file.
